Tag Archives: Writing

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You Know It’s Too Big

One hilarious thing about writing is tricking your audience into reading an article based on a provocative title. I know what you were thinking, silly people but this is at least a PG-13 blog. It’s my “blessing in my belly making my stomach stick so far out” that has gotten to a point that may or not be “too big”. It’s all relative, I suppose. I might find my stomach to be too large, and my body giving out on me seems to agree. It’s more than aches and pains, it’s the hilarious ways it affects your life in the most vain and unimportant ways.

Recently while showering, I went to shave my legs only to find out this might be harder than normal. As if not cutting my leg open isn’t enough of a task shaving, I found my stomach made this more difficult that I had hoped. I did it, barely, while sitting down in an awkward position determined not to be that woman who makes her husband do it for her. I think I’ll go amazon chic before I allow myself to lose that sort of independence. I haven’t decided if having him paint my nails is the same idea, but on principle I’ll go without certain vanities. I bet I’ll give in though, I don’t think I could allow myself to go 3 months with hairy legs, especially with summer on my heels.

Yesterday, I wanted to eat popcorn while watching Game of Thrones or as I call it “the highlight of my week”. This doesn’t seem like it would be overly difficult. I go to the cabinet where the popcorn was and as I reached up to grab the popcorn, I realized that my stomach stuck out so much that I couldn’t reach to grab my popcorn because I was too far away to just grab it. Normally when this happens (a common occurrence when you’re barely 5’2″), I climb onto the counter to reach what I need and gloat how I don’t need my 6ft husband to reach things for me. Stupidly, I attempted to climb, but quickly realized that climbing wasn’t an option either. Not just because my husband looked on disapprovingly with a lecture ready, but because my fat little body was no longer as agile as I was 6 months ago.

So as I waddle around with my fan/spritzer combo to cool me off, I complain about the discomforts of the miracle of life while looking about how large I am in my head. The bright point is every kick I know I’m doing something right and in a few short months there will be a child here that everyone can fawn over and will be there to make me smile and forget about everything before. Then I’ll forget enough to go through it again.

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And Now It’s 3 months

I was sitting in my living room, indulging in a nice salad and rice because that’s what my crazy fetus enjoys. It then hit me that in almost 3 months time, I’ll be sitting in that same spot with a swaddled newborn. It wasn’t the idea of the newborn that sent sudden waves of terror and anxiety in my body, it was the idea that there was only about 3 months left until he appeared. I had only 3 months and a lot less time to get things accomplished than I had hoped.

I looked at my bedroom, which I had destroyed in a fit early on in my pregnancy when I realized nothing fit. Where was I going to put this bassinet? What happens next? Do I baptize him? Who do I choose to be his godparents without offending everyone else? Will I be a terrible mother this time around, knowing that I wasn’t that great my first time? I couldn’t help to think “well with all those kids in foster care or the state’s care, I’m sure it could be worse.”

Then, I cheer up. “I’m sure it could be worse for him.” No that’s not what cheers me up, I’m not that awful. What comforts me is that in 3 months time I won’t have to pee every hour and all these aches and pains will vanish. I’ll have this little life staring at me wide-eyed and excited for what the next day will bring. That’s the best part of being a parent: realizing that you can open this new life’s eyes to something better than what’s actually there. Children are innocent and unaware if you don’t feel like changing out of your pajamas. They don’t care about anything other than whether you love them and are there to take care of them.

Maybe 3 months is perfect time. Time enough to focus on getting everything done and time enough to enjoy it while it lasts. Time enough to prepare for everything, and realize that all the preparation in the world won’t help for all the unknowns parenthood brings. Maybe 3 months isn’t perfect time, mostly because there’s no such thing as perfect time for anything.

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The Corporations and Our Money

Ideally, this post would be an intelligent and informed commentary on greedy corporate America and how it affects the lowly people and their pockets. However, my intelligence is questionable and I’m not quite informed on the world of economics to discuss how this hurts our pocketbooks. What I am is a sarcastic and bitter critic of everything, and comments whatever comes to my mind regardless of things like actual facts and statistics.

After months of my health insurance company not giving me a straight answer on my appeal for the claim of “why do I owe $700?” and finally my bill going into collections as a result, it led me to wonder why I even bother with insurance. Granted, living in Massachusetts makes it cheaper to pay $700 a month on insurance than it does to pay the fine and not filing taxes. It does work out in the end as what could’ve easily been a $2000 bill, might only cost me $100 in the end since my deductible is slowly reaching its limit. Even still, I couldn’t help but to wonder why something like a single blood test costs $800, or how can you pull a kleenex out of a kid’s nose with a pair of tweezers and have it cost $400. I’m sure I could’ve taken it out of my son’s nose myself for $1, the price of tweezers. Maybe the problem isn’t that insurance costs so much, maybe it’s because the doctors and labs charge an obscene fee for seemingly simple things. Greedy doctors or greedy insurance companies or a combination of the 2? Does it really matter? It still hurts as you write out the check for the bills.

Then, there are student loans. In a previous post, I went off on a rant about the incredible rudeness of these loan companies and the fact that their interests rates are more than my husband’s car interest. I’m sure it also was a commentary on how they were pissed I was off by 5 cents on one of my payments. When you’re complaining about 5 cents, you really are greedy. They gave me the best news this week though, by lowering the monthly payments on 2 of my loans. Sure, it may only be $10 I’m saving a month, but when you consider that’s a box of diapers every month you get excited. I hope this isn’t the calm before the storm though, the idea of Senate not getting their heads out of their butts worries me because I don’t want my interest rates to go up as a result of our government being morons.

I could be missing the big picture by saying these companies are greedy. Maybe they have costs I don’t understand, that doesn’t count the big wigs of these companies clearing millions of dollars every year. I could just be a cynical bored housewife, or could I be right that these companies aren’t getting increased expenses but getting increased want of a nicer lifestyle at the costs of the lowly people bordering middle class and poverty. I’m all for a free market and people making it without having to apologize. Hell, I want to make it and have a fortune at my disposal, and I think most people in my position agree. What I do wonder is if maybe those big corporations are parasites living off us. With that logic, why do we complain about our money going to welfare people to live off of while we fund all these rich corporations to?

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It’s All In Perspective

Parenting brings out different ideals and morals in a person. You see things in the way you hope your child will see them and are more aware of the things you say. With my first child, I definitely learned to watch my language at least in speaking out loud. You also learn that every action you perform, they learn. They learn everything from you, but I think that mostly you learn from  you children.

With my new addition growing inside, I notice that I’m more aware of certain issues this time around that I didn’t need to worry about with my first. My first son is a majority, a white male. My son waiting to enter the world will likely have more challenges we’re both going to have to walk through for the first time, since this society is still a society that struggles with race issues and people who are different. My unborn son will have to hold his head high while slurs are tosses at him because he’s Asian. They’ll hold the skins of their eyes and make a squinty face to imitate him, and mispronounce words because that’s what they see on TV.

Even more, I think about the internment that took place in World War II. I think about the terrorist attacks and how that made our country view Muslims. I get scared thinking about those things, because it makes me wonder what happens if we end up in a war with North Korea. I worry that my children and husband will be taken away just because their lineage is Korean. I worry they’ll get thrown down stairs, have eggs tossed at them, have our house vandalized because we live in a closeted xenophobic society. And by closeted, I mean hidden as well in the closet as Clay Aiken was.

More logically, laws similar to the one being discussed about immigration in Arizona and how if they become widespread how that will affect my family. I would’ve said before who cares if they want to pass a law they think will work though it will probably make racial profiling acceptable. Now I sit there and think, “how do I feel that a law like this means that my child can be pulled over just because he’s Asian and needs to prove that he’s American. Do I need to make him carry around his birth certificate so some tough guy cop doesn’t bully my child?” Lawmakers say that it won’t increase racial profiling, but that’s like saying it just seems like anyone with tan skin and a beard gets stopped more at airport security.

I hope for the sake of my children that I’m being skeptical and paranoid. Maybe things will change between now and then, and maybe I don’t have to worry about the cruel world I’m bringing them into. I can hope that I raised them well enough to not retaliate violently and stand up for themselves in a positive way. Mostly, I can hope that the world is a little more tolerant in the future.

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It’s a Cruel Cruel World

There are some moments in life when I sit back and think about how awful I am. This has nothing to do with self-esteem, it has everything to do with the awful things that roll through my mind. The worst part about the things that cross my mind is that I have a hard time not saying it aloud. I often think I’m just not wired right in the head. My lack of empathy for certain circumstances makes me feel awkward and horrible. Not horrible because I thought it, but because I feel like I should feel guilty. Luckily, I can take comfort in the fact that no matter how awful I am that there’s always someone worse than me.

The first moment it hit me that I was a little off was when I was a Junior in high school. My English teacher was trying to explain the idea of a tragedy to us by asking us if it was a tragedy that a girl runs across the street chasing a ball and gets hit by a car and dies. After a few people, she turns to me and asked me if I thought it was a tragedy. “No, it wasn’t a tragedy,” I blurted  out, realizing what I had said without really thinking about it. “No? Why not?”, she asked with a stunned or appalled look on her face. “Because if she was too stupid to look both ways first, it was going to happen. That’s not a tragedy, it’s natural selection.” I figured I was already in everyone’s “crazy bitch” category, so why not just finish my thought aloud. Lucky for me, I think the teacher thought I was trying to be funny and let me off the hook without much more than an appalled look. That was the moment I realized that I was an awful person.

Eventually I learned to at least try to keep my mouth shut with age, though some days were more trying than others. There are some occasions with people I trust where I don’t care. The other day we were driving back from my son’s baseball practice, I saw a person on a bike towing a full bag of trash without a helmet cut off a SUV. Obviously, the truck won and he was on the road in pain. People got out and pulled out their cellphones, hoping for this kid. I looked at my husband and before I knew it “What the heck did he think would happen trying to cut off a SUV? And without a helmet? Seriously…” I ranted on about stupidity.

I know what you’re thinking if you haven’t stopped reading yet: you think that I need help or no wonder you barely have friends. You’re probably right, but the thing I’ve learned is that most of the time I just say what everyone else was thinking. Does it make it worse that I say it out loud or that you kept it in?

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There, I Closed My Eyes

Every month, I find myself sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for my turn. I would list this as one of the biggest annoyances of this pregnancy. I understand the point of it, it’s a precautionary act to make sure everything’s fine. Well, logically I understand the point. I’m a normally bitter and sarcastic person, and this act though necessary tests every bit of my core. For me, in my irrational and angry mind, this isn’t only unnecessary but it’s also a waste of time. I hate wasting time.

It’s nice to be there so often that the receptionists know my name and I can just sit down in peace. It’s not nice to be there having to use the bathroom but being unable to because you need to pee in a cup when you get in there. It’s definitely even more uncomfortable to shift positions and realize that you can’t sit comfortably in any of those chairs and you know that even though your appointment is in 10 minutes,  you’ll probably be sitting in that chair for another half hour at least. Or if you’re lucky, they’ll let you sit in the exam room in uncomfortable silence on an uncomfortable and cold table. Then, you go through all that to have your physician say “are you feeling ok? Any bleeding or fluids leaking?”. Then when you respond with a simple “no”, they say you make your job easy and lay you down to hear the heartbeat. I almost feel like this could be easily accomplished with a video conference call while I stay home in my pajamas with my lovely Boppy. That’s not even the worst part for me.

I’m like every other woman on the planet, I have issues with  how I look. All these flaws I build up in my head only get worsened by the pregnancy. Pregnancy glow doesn’t exist, it’s not a compliment when people say you have it. It’s really just oil building up that’s going to end up in a horrible rash of acne. There’s nothing exciting about it. Then, there’s the weight thing. I’ve never been large, even though I admit I’ve always thought I was bigger than I actually was. That changes when you’re pregnant; you really are large. At my recent visit, I even admittedly refused to look at the scale while the nurse weighed me. She didn’t judge, which made me happy that I’m probably nowhere near the only one who just didn’t want to know. Now today, I’m scarred by the number. In my head, I look like I’m about to pop and will never lose this weight. I know it’s illogical, but I can’t  help but to be obsessive about how “big” I am.

I share this story because I know I’m not the only pregnant person in the world that takes one look in the mirror and doesn’t feel a joy but feels an insecurity. Honestly, it’s tiring reading about how awesome it is and I don’t think enough people come out and admit that they feel a certain way. I’m not saying I’m not happy about this bundle of joy, but don’t make us feel like bad people because we don’t “glow” the way you think we should. Pregnant women should be able to come out and say it’s not always peachy without fearing what people think.

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How to Deal With Your Gamer Partner, and What Perks You Get

First I’ll start by saying you get a 2 post day today, because the feverish me that wrote the Pax East part 2 must’ve forgotten to hit the “Publish” button. My apologies and lesson was learned, I’ll be more sure that I publish what I meant to. No need for you to have to suffer 2 posts in one day again, right?

My husband and I are gamers, in recent months though where we were both evenly hardcore in our playing habits. However, sitting at a computer for hours playing hurts my fat pregnant back so I’ve drastically cut down even with my beautiful panda beta invite. (Note, I’ll probably get back into it when I get Diablo III and they make my priest fun again in Mists of Pandaria.) My husband is in love with the new Mass Effect 3 multiplayer, and he spends much of his free time. At first, this bothered me because I wanted to not be sitting around while everyone one else was having fun. Then it let me see a side that I was never able to empathize with before: the wife or girlfriend who doesn’t game. They don’t understand how to deal with their partner, and most importantly they overlook those perks of having them preoccupied.

I had a weekend I was looking forward to all these fun things that we could do. Eventually, the weekend rolled around and it was a special weekend of Mass Effect 3 goodness that I didn’t pay enough attention when he explained it. That weekend involved him playing his game the entire weekend while I alternated trying to find comfortable positions to relax in, slowly getting irritated at my boredom. Then I realized that I wasn’t sure why I was upset. Imagine all the things I want to spend my weekend doing that he hates! I went to the bedroom and watched Netflix streaming all weekend of things I wanted to and he would never watch with me. Is it embarrassing to say I spent a weekend watching Secret Life of the American Teen with a box of tissues? Maybe, but more importantly was it as fantastic as I’d hope? It sure was ladies.

The point is, so what if your partner plays video games obsessively and sometimes ignores you? Do you really want him to spend all his time doting on you? This is the opportunity you should embrace. You know how you really wanted to see but he wanted to see and you fought about it? Remember that next time he’s too busy killing Brutes to acknowledge you and get that DVD. Also look at it another way, if he’s that intend on finishing goals that a pixelated man sets out for him, imagine his determination in goals he sets for himself.

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More Pax: Belated Day 2 and 3 Post

Note: I wrote this last week and failed to realize it never posted. Now it is.
When you get that much geek in one spot, trying to get online anywhere is difficult and why one reason this post is so late. The other reason was that I was afflicted with a minor case of the “Pax Pox” or “Pax Flu”, the general illness we all know we’re walking into when you pile 75 thousand or so people into one space. Worth it though, it was really worth it.

With day 2, our first mission of getting a Jonathan Coulton autograph for our son was more simple than we thought. In the ever popular “Bandland”, he was already seated and greeting fans. My husband bought a “Skullcrusher Mountain” shirt and asked if he would sign the starry-eyed 9 year old’s Pax badge. He nearly fainted and spent a good hour later excited about this, and making the evening’s concert even more exciting for him. “See that, that’s JoCo. I met him and he signed my badge.” The autograph thing joined another level of excitement for both my boys, when in the expo hall we saw Tycho himself! I’m not sure who was more excited about the signature, it was a proud moment on my son’s badge.

Day 2 was the big concert for our son, he was so excited. Despite many attempts to fall asleep, he made it the entire time. If you haven’t seen it, I recommend going to YouTube and checking out the Paul and Storm and Jonathan Coulton parts of the concert. Especially the Paul and Storm part, you’ll never look at Game of Thrones or those ASPCA commercials the same way again.

Day 3 was less eventful, we did a last tour of the expo hall and demoed some more games. For all people who want to attend for the first time next year, my advice is simple: demoing games and the lines are better on Sundays. Our son’s favorite game was Primal Carnage, a multiplayer game where you play a dinosaur and eat people. What about that game isn’t for a boy to love?

My closing thoughts were that personally, it wasn’t as good as it has been. I blame that on the general interest of my taste in games, only 3 video games caught my eye and the remake of the Game of Thrones board game wasn’t as thrilling as I’d hoped. I did see an interesting board game called “Zpocalypse” that I’m sure will end up in our board game arsenal. The Secret World looks like a really fun mmo, which is another game worth mentioning. I will note that I didn’t mention Borderlands too, as with a 9-year-old, demoing it wouldn’t have happened, however the game play looked fantastic and I can’t wait for that either. As for something new, our family has found a new hobby that interests us and we can’t wait to start: painting figurines for board games and the idea of making our own little adventure set.

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Big News in a Smallish Big Town?

This morning we woke up to news of a shooting and standoff in our city. No, this post isn’t about the shooting. I have no wish to be one of those “wanna-be” bloggers that writes about a tragic situation for my benefit. Nothing ever really happens where I live, maybe one murder every 10 years which I bet is better than most places. Watching the news this morning, I realized one thing: news-people are seriously questionable. I know, I don’t hide my distaste for journalists, but it always amazes me watching them.

Of course all our local news channels did hours long breaking news broadcast of this event, why wouldn’t they? It was huge, especially in a city like ours. I didn’t mind they spent 4  hours reciting the same information, they didn’t know anything else to report but they knew the locals were going to sit in front of that television screen biting our nails, wondering what would happen and how this would end. I didn’t even mind they showed the same aerial view and street footage while saying “we don’t want to give too much away”. It was really just the simple expressions on their face that bothered me.

They had a look of “thank god something happened in this place, we actually get to report something”. I don’t like the idea of a something on this scale or worse happening and having the “trustworthy” people on the screen look like this was great for their boring career. Fine, it probably is great for your boring career, but what does that even mean? You’ll still be in that same small city local news and looking back and remembering that day there was a shoot out down the road from us. By down the road, you mean down the highway and off the next exit. Yeah, those were the glory days.

I don’t know why I even bother watching the news anymore, I have a smart phone and the internet. I think these newscasters are just holding on slowly because soon the internet will replace us all. Enjoy your job newscasters, soon we’ll just rely on small-town news websites and blogs to get our news.

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Pax East, day 1

I learned something important today. When you’re 5 months pregnant at a huge convention, a problem exists: you’re 5 months pregnant. Toting around swag and walking for hours straight doesn’t feel so great. After only a couple of hours, my feet and back feel like they want to run away from my body. Don’t even get me started on my OCD and public restrooms. This made me realize how I should approach my weekend special for Pax: no one talks about being a parent at a gaming convention nor does anyone mention being pregnant and walking around swarms of people.
This is mine and my husband’s 3rd year here. This year, we decided our 9-year-old was old enough to appreciate this experience. This posed a problem for us, as now we had to adapt a new plan and accept that there were certain things we would have to miss that we enjoyed. (I miss you “Make a Strip” panel.) Certain things aren’t kid friendly.

I just rocked the old people's socks off.

This gave us a new perspective on this event. We kept our eyes opened for things our son would enjoy. Then, we saw the “Paint and Take” booth. Perfect! My husband and our son sat there together painting happily together. When they were completed, they proudly showed off their work.

My figurine is awesome. This is my proud face.

Look what I can do!

We also remembered a joy when our son discovered the Classic Console room. While we proudly showed our old age talking about how “the NES was our first game system as kids” and explaining the evolution of games to get to the Wii and Xbox he enjoys today. We showed him how Golden Eye 64 was far more awesome than his Wii version, and then watched him beat us at it. Yes, we were proud. I have a feeling we’re going to spend a lot of time there this weekend.
Another room was also a place of great awe and amazement for our 9-year-old adventurer: the ACAM too. It was filled with classic arcade machines that were free to play. The room was dark, with laser stage lights like arcades should look like. With a backdrop of 80’s music, our son looks at this pinball machine like he’s never seen one in real life, asking “wasn’t Tommy a pinball wizard?” My poor husband’s knee though, he crouched down using his legs as a step stool so our short son could see the screens. This is another place we’ll probably end up spending our weekend.
The agenda for tomorrow is simple. First, we must track down Jonathan Coulton so our son can get an autograph and meet his beloved JoCo. Then more family friendly activities including another visit to the painting booth and classic consoles. Finally, the Saturday night concerts so we can enjoy Video Game Orchestra and Jonathan Coulton.
For you expectant mothers, I do have advice: granola bars or the like are your friends, as are bottles of water. Also taking breaks as often as possible makes you not feel so dead, you know your body. Lastly, a pair of comfortable shoes and airy clothing prevents the overheat and just makes you feel less discomfort.
For now though, we’re calling it a night. My feet have swollen up to a freakish size and my muscles feel like giving up. Tomorrow I’ll know better. Have fun Pax people who are still partying down.